


Being Selfish

by EllieL



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Cockpit Sex, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Second Time, Smut, Trip to Bespin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 06:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19901002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieL/pseuds/EllieL
Summary: “I’ve had choices, of course, but was always aware the consequences were not just for myself—they affected my family, my planet, the Rebellion. Choosing something just for myself was a terrifying impossibility.”A conversation in the cockpit on the way to Bespin becomes a little more.





	Being Selfish

He woke alone in a tangle of sheets, lighting still adjusted the dim blue night setting. It took a few seconds to process why waking up alone in his familiar bunk on the Falcon felt unexpected, until the memory of the night before came back to him, and he took in the rumpled pillow close next to his. Running a hand through his hair, Han shook his head, trying to clear it, then ran a hand over the other side of the bed--cool, as if she’d been nothing but a dream. 

But sitting up and turning up the lighting a bit, he saw evidence of her presence, a few hairpins and a trail of their clothing across the floor. He started for the door, then paused and picked up a few articles of clothing, shaking them out until he found his boxers, pulling them on before opening the door. She’d left the room a while ago, and he felt sure she wouldn’t appreciate him wandering naked into wherever she’d gone, though he had no personal aversion to wandering through his own ship unclothed.

As he headed down the corridor, he could hear Chewie’s rumbling snores from his cabin and the low steady thrum of the sub-light engines, but nothing else. He ducked into the lounge and galley first, and found some evidence she’d been there--a lukewarm kettle and a box of tea still on the counter. He turned around and leaned against the counter a moment, listening, trying to figure out where she might have gone.

Pushing off from the counter, he decided to head around the ring corridor and see what he found. On a hunch, he ducked left and took a few steps toward the cockpit, where he stopped just outside the open doorway. He watched her for a minute. She wore the shirt he’d shed last night and apparently very little else as she curled up in the copilot seat with a mug in her hands, gazing out the viewscreen to starry expanse ahead of them. Anoat glowed deep blue in the near distance, it’s light giving the powered-down body of Threepio an eerie gleam.

He rapped his knuckles softly on the edge of the hatch. “Hey.”

She jumped, and turned sharply towards him. “Han.”

“Y’okay?” Avoiding Threepio, he carefully crossed the cockpit and settled into his own chair, turning it to face her but not touching her. She looked thoughtful, introspective, but not sad, not hurt.

Leia shrugged and took a long sip of the tea, then continued looking down into the mug, as if it had the answer she was searching for.

“Sweetheart…”

She shook her head, then surprised him by putting her mug down on the nav console and climbing into his chair, curling in to him. Of their own volition, his arms went around her, drew her even closer. Whatever was bothering her, he understood, it was not  _ him _ . He kissed the top of her head where she’d rested it over his heart, but held his tongue.

It felt as if they sat that way a long time before she moved again, taking a deep, slow breath and sitting up until her eyes were level with his, meeting his worried gaze. Then she tilted her head and met his lips with her own, a passionate, lingering kiss that left no doubts as to her feelings for him. They were both breathless when she broke away with a quiet sigh.

He watched her carefully, but she kept her eyes closed, as if making peace with a heavy decision, willing herself to keep from recomposing back into the serious Princess she’d been on Hoth. She opened her eyes as if the lids were made of heavy durasteel, but looked right into his.

“I'm being selfish.”

“Hmm?” His brow furrowed, and he tried to follow her logic, unsuccessfully. Naturally he immediately thought of their recent sexual encounter, and while there may have been an imbalance of experience there certainly had not seemed an imbalance of enthusiasm. He certainly hadn’t thought her  _ selfish _ in any way.

A faint smile played at her lips as she shook her head. “Not like that, or at least not like you’re thinking.”

“How, then?” His hands stroked her back, over the soft fabric of his shirt, hanging on her like a dress.

“All of this is selfish.” She gestured between the two of them, then rested her palm over his heart. “I’ve never been...free to be selfish before.”

“Too many royal obligations?” He’d said it as a joke, but she was nodding, somber.

“Obligations, expectations, protocol.” She cast a glance back at the inert form of Threepio. “I’ve had choices, of course, but was always aware the consequences were not just for myself—they affected my family, my planet, the Rebellion. Choosing something just for myself was a terrifying impossibility.”

He only nodded, letting her talk; these last few weeks he’d been realizing that she would express herself if he gave her space to do it, rather than trying to pry it out of her as he’d struggled to do for the last two years. And he liked listening to her talk, liked watching her expressive eyes as she spoke.

“But just for now, just for a little while I can be selfish. I can be happy for twenty-two days.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach those eyes, and he could see all the conflict in them, everything she couldn’t find the words to articulate.

“Sweetheart….” He closed his own eyes for a moment, shook his head slightly, before opening them and kissing her softly on the forehead. If she didn’t have the words, he certainly didn’t, but felt he had to try. “I want you to be happy for more than twenty-two days.”

“I know.” She returned his kiss, her lips ghosting across his. “But that’s all we have.”

With conscious effort, he bit back the quip, the snappy offer to fly slower or take a detour. He knew the deadline was of his own making, and not without good reason. It was not as if he  _ wanted _ to leave her, but he wanted to keep her alive more. He was being entirely selfless in this, and wished she would understand his reasoning. This was not a fight he wanted to have again, not when she just told him she wanted to be happy; he didn’t take that for granted, didn’t want to ruin her happiness any more than he knew he would have to eventually.

“Let me make you happy, then,” he whispered, breath ruffling the hair by her ear.

She turned, twisting on his lap until her lips brushed his again. “How would you propose to do that?” 

There was a teasing note in her voice that had him frozen for an instant, his mind racing through the implications of that. Eight steps past where they’d found an easy truce, past daydreams and fantasies and possibility. It was an idea he hadn’t even considered, one she probably hadn’t either, hadn’t chosen her words with that kind of precision. He took a breath, gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head to clear thoughts of that kind of happiness.

Instead, he grinned as he ran his hands down from where they’d been resting on her shoulders. They skimmed over her strong back, down to the hem of his shirt where it fell across her thighs, up again under it, teasing higher and higher, until he realized she was wearing  _ only _ his shirt. His grin widened and he captured her lips in a kiss, deepening it as his hands slid higher, higher, over the bare curve of her ass, pulling her closer for a moment, then pushing her gently away.

She sat up in confusion, her brow furrowing as she stared at him. Then he tugged at her left leg, and she understood what he wanted from her, swinging her leg across him so she sat facing him, legs snugly bracketing his. His hands roamed up her sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts, teasing lightly.

“Be selfish,” he murmured close to her ear before briefly capturing her earlobe gently between his teeth. “Tell me what you want.”

“I—I don’t—know--“ She gasped as he captured her earlobe again, traced the curve of it with his tongue. 

Earlier, she hadn’t been shy with him, not that he’d ever expected her to be; she’d been fervent, and assertive enough when she liked what he was doing, what they were doing. But she hadn’t made any demands of him, hadn’t asked for a tongue or a nibble or a particular positioning, only followed where he led, only asked for more after he’d already offered, already had her writhing and gasping and wanting.

His hands slid back down her body, almost to the hem of his shirt, and began stroking their way slowly back up her legs, thumbs brushing whisper light across her inner thighs. “Do you want this?” 

“Yes,” she sighed, as his hands reached the apex of her legs, thumbs not quite grazing the curls between them. One of her hands dropped down to catch his, as the other remained wrapped around his neck. He stilled, waiting for her lead. 

Opening his eyes, he saw hers closed tight, that look of uncertainty on her beautiful face again. He trailed light kisses along her jaw. “Show me.”

That look of indecision cleared from her face, though her eyes remained closed. Her fingers laced with his, guided his hand higher, into the curls, into the soft warmth of her. Just their index fingers traced her entrance, teasing, before gliding back up, seeking. He knew the moment they’d found it, felt her tense and then inhale sharply. 

“Here?” He applied a little more pressure, bringing a second finger into play.

“Yes. But—“ she gasped, breathless for a moment as his fingers stilled, her clit trapped between them.

“But what else would you like?” His voice was husky as he whispered, tongue brushing her ear as he did so. 

Her fingers clenched tight on his shoulder once before releasing it, taking his other hand. Letting her guide him was effortless, as she began to use two of his fingers to firmly circle her clit, and the other hand covering her breast, kneading a bit at first as she bit her lip, paused, then brushed their fingers across her peaked nipple. Her moan held as much frustration as arousal.

“Let me…” With some reluctance he removed his hand from her breast, and found the buttons of the shirt she was wearing, struggling briefly to work them in the reverse of the way he was accustomed to when he was wearing the shirt himself. When he moved to push the shirt off her shoulders, she reached up and stilled his hand. 

At his raised brow, she flushed slightly and asked, “Can I keep it on?”

His hand slipped inside the open shirt to cup her breast again, thumb stroking her, drawing out a moan he captured in a tender kiss. “You can do anything you want, Leia.”

She returned his kisses in quick bursts, interrupted as she gasped for breath, huffed out his name as his fingers moved over her. His lips followed her jaw instead, tracing the sensitive skin under her ear, down her neck as far as he could comfortably reach in the chair; he wished for the ability to drop his head further, reach her breasts with his mouth, but had to content himself, content  _ her _ , with his fingers.

The hand guiding his between her legs fell away as he found a rhythm that seemed to please her, and she held herself close to him, arms wrapping around his back, keeping them cocooned between the swirl of his shirt and the pilot’s seat. It occurred to him only then that she’d wanted to keep the shirt on because she wanted to be wrapped up in him, not out of some sense of modesty--she’d been willing enough to shed her clothes in his cabin earlier, hadn’t shrunk from his gaze there, even as she’d bared her breasts, her scars. He wished for more arms, to surround her with even as he touched her, but in the moment, would have to rely on her holding him.

This angle wasn’t quite right from him to touch her just as she’d touched herself--though he would file that information away for future exploration--so he captured her lips in a deep kiss as he withdrew his fingers momentarily, feeling her whine of frustration against his lips as he repositioned, and her sigh as his thumb found her again, resumed the firm circles she’d shown him. She gasped his name again as she broke their kiss, rocking against him. The change allowed his fingers to slide lower, tracing her entrance, hot and wet. 

He watched her face as he increased the pressure and rhythm of his thumb on her clit, as he teased her entrance with one finger. As he tightened his hand at her breast, no longer teasing but pinching her nipple lightly, her eyes flew open and met his. 

“Yes, Han.” 

“Like this?” One finger slid into her, as she pressed herself into him. 

Words were unnecessary, her response said enough, as she moaned and trailed her lips and teeth lightly up the tendons of his neck. He was breathing almost as heavily as she by the time her teeth captured his earlobe, teasing.

“Not like that.”

He froze in his ministrations, befuddled. “No?”

“I want you to be happy too.”

His lips grazed her shoulder, and his hand moved from her breast to capture her chin, bringing her face to face with him before responding. “I’m pretty happy right now.”

Pressing herself against him, she rocked her hips into him as she kissed him, tongues swirling together for a moment until she broke away again, shaking her head just a bit.

“Oh, I think there’s a way you might be happier.”

“This is supposed to be about you.” He wasn’t  _ opposed _ to the idea, truly, but he didn’t want her to feel obligated, or like that was the only way it had to be. Making her happy made him happy, and they had nothing but time to enjoy themselves, for now. 

“You said you wanted me to tell you what I want. I want  _ you _ .”

He couldn’t help his goofy, crooked smile then. “Well I ain’t ever saying no to that.” Kissing her deeply then, he felt her tighten around his finger as she rocked against him again, arms going around him, and it all took his breath away. But he needed oxygen to think, to figure out how to get his shorts off without disrupting their situation too much, and he eventually broke the kiss. 

They were both breathing heavily, Leia in rhythm to the motion of his thumb, still teasing her clit, almost panting. “But you’re sure you don’t want this first?” He curved the finger inside her, a come hither gesture that often--worked as she gasped sharply, then buried her head in the crook of his neck. He gasped as her teeth sunk into his shoulder, as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle a moan.

“Oh, may--maybe,” she eventually panted against his tender skin. “Oh, Han--maybe--”

Maybe he wanted to see her come this way, first, when he wasn’t worried about tempering his own reaction, when he wasn’t trying to make her first time with him perfect, when he’d learned just enough about her body to start figuring out exactly what she liked.

“Both is an option, you know,” he managed to murmur in her ear. He was guessing--hoping--that was true for her.

She lifted her head and looked at him, eyes wide and deep, then graced him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “Okay, hotshot.”

“You’re gorgeous.” Whispered, before capturing her lips again, returning to the rhythm he’d found for his fingers on her. 

The kiss didn’t last long, as both were short of breath, as her heart raced, thrumming so he could feel it under his palm, where it rested on her breast. He kept pace with it in his ministrations, timing the press of his thumb to the beat of her pulse. It didn’t take long until she cried out his name, muffled by his shoulder, stilling the counter rhythm she’d found against him, and he felt her tighten around his finger. He slowed then, too, coaxing a little more out of her, easing her down as she tried to catch her breath.

Then, as her pulse dropped and her lips began nibbling kisses up the tendons of his neck, her hand dropped to find his again, easing him away from her. But only so far, and with a little sigh of disappointment; she turned both their attentions to the waistband of his shorts, fumbling together for a moment before the small part of his brain that could still consider logistics took over. 

“Here. Just for a second.” It took no effort to lift her hips up and off of him, creating enough of a gap that he could lift his own, wiggle the offending garment down to tangle somewhere on his legs. He’d worry about that later. 

Her hand was on his cock before he even got his hands back on her, and it was his turn to gasp as she tightened her fingers around him, already beyond teasing to arousing. It didn’t take much; the sight and feel of her in his lap already had him achingly ready.

There was some fumbling as they worked out positioning and balance in the seat, but eventually she sank slowly down onto him, and it was the most exquisite thing he’d ever experienced. 

“Leia,” came out more as a growl than a word, and she blinked her big eyes at him, looking rather like she might growl herself. 

She shifted tentatively, exploring her options and angles, lifting up just a bit before sinking back down, then moving more forward and back. Humming a bit, she stilled, looking at him levelly. This was nice for that, too, and he took advantage to kiss her again. 

When they broke apart, she rested her hands on his shoulders and tugged a bit. “Can you shift forward just a little?”

As he complied she gasped, tucking her legs tighter around him. She then resumed her experimental movements, and he was happy to let her, happy to watch and enjoy the feel of her surrounding him. Now he understood the shirt, as his arms were finally free to surround her. Nothing had ever felt better than this, than her here with him, happy, all around him.

Her mouth found his ear, nibbled the lobe for a bit before gasping into his ear, “I like—like this,” as she sunk down firmly on him.

All he could do was moan in response. She’d taken over this pleasure ride, and he was absolutely fine with that. He knew he wouldn’t last long, though, not after watching her earlier, not while she was riding him so eagerly. 

Fortunately, she close again, too, already sensitized. Her breath was coming faster, as if she was straining towards her own finish, and his hand slid down between them again to encourage her. He briefly captured her nipple, gave it a light tweak as she moaned, then continued down her abdomen, sliding between her legs once more. He had learned how to touch her now, and he immediately found his mark.

She was nearly keening as he stroked her clit in time with the rhythm she’d found. As she came apart again, she muffled something between a cry and a moan in his shoulder, while the rest of her body seemed to convulse briefly, tightening around him, pulling him to the edge before she went limp. He thrust up again, once, twice more then choked out something that might have been her name, or might have just been incoherence. 

They rested like that wrapped up in one another and appreciating the feel of bare skin as they regained composure and the ability to breathe.

Eventually she caught her breath and raised her head from his shoulder to look at him. She bit her lip, looking a little sultry and a little uncertain.

“Is this your favorite spot for...this?”

He raised his brows, startled by the question.

“Here in the cockpit, looking out at the stars?” She tilted her head slightly, considering him, awaiting a response.

“Who’s looking at stars?”

She shook her head but was smiling, not quite laughing.

His arms tightened around her but still didn’t answer, merely played with her hair.

“Han?”

“Before this…” He took a long deep breath. “Before this, before you, there was never anyone on the ship.”

At that, she did sit up and pull back to look at him square in the eye. “No one?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “Never with me.”

For a moment, she seemed to consider that. Then a sly smile spread across her face. “Chewie? And...Malla?”

He guffawed at that, pulled her flush against him again. He loved her smart mouth, loved her, even if he wasn’t quite ready to say it yet. He knew it, knew it was only a matter of time before the words slipped out.

“Malla won’t get on the ship. Actually, she called it garbage, so the two of you’ll get on great, whenever you finally meet.”

“Will I meet her someday?” One brow rose slightly at the inevitability implied in his statement. It was a loaded question, full of all the things they’d called a truce on talking about until they arrived on Bespin. The list was long, and what would happen after was at the top. 

But he couldn’t leave her question unanswered.

“‘Course you will. We’ll go visit Chewie’s whole clan on Kashyyyk someday.” When the Empire is no longer in charge of it and likely to catch and kill her went unsaid, but understood. The  _ someday _ lingered, though, a promise of more than the mere twenty-two days they’d found for theomselves now.

“I’d like that, someday.” She rested her head on his shoulder once more, and silence reigned between them. Eventually, though, she began to shift uncomfortably on his lap, gradually drawing her legs back and out of the seat with a wince. She she stood, she carefully flexed each leg.

“Knees sore?”

“A little.” Stretching, she twisted to look out at the stars, then back at him, his shirt still floating open around her.

“It’s still early. Wanna go back to sleep?”

She looked warily over at Threepio, and started to rebutton the shirt, slightly askew.

“Go on, I’ll get power him back up as I’m ducking back out the hatch.”

She nodded and kissed him swiftly before slipping out herself, soundless with bare feet on the decking. For just a moment, he watched her go, and savored every bit of it, before beginning to right himself. He twisted his shorts back up, then stood, making his way almost to the door, well behind Threepio. With one hand, he hit the activation switch on Threepio’s neck, then bolted out the doorway and slammed the hatch closed behind him, leaving watch to the droid as he headed back to his— _ their _ cabin.

They’d sleep a little longer, and then they’d awake, and have twenty-one days.

*


End file.
